


Perfect Fit

by navaan



Series: Perfect - series [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Batman Reborn, DC Universe Big Bang, Developing Relationship, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Tim Drake is Red Robin, a little violence, change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson has to deal with fitting into his new role as Batman. Tim is struggling with not being Robin anymore and Damian doesn't make things easy for anyone. Things have changed – but maybe that can be a good thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [DC Universe Big Bang](http://dcu-bang.livejournal.com) on livejorunal.
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out the wonderful art created by neptune47 here!](http://neptune47.livejournal.com/16821.html)  
> 

The pieces of armor Bruce had incorporated into the costume were dragging him down. The cape was much to heavy. He aimed a kick at his assailants face, taking satisfaction in the way the heavy boot connected with the thugs face. Even if he was feeling handicapped and out of his element, Dick Grayson still knew how to keep the upper hand in a fight. But he wasn't Dick Grayson. 

Right now he was _Batman_.

And although he didn't feel comfortable yet in his new skin he would do this job right.

He took the first man with a kick to the chest and flipped out of the way before the second one could get at him. The weight was slowing him down. He needed to adapt, change his style, adjust his movements. He felt cramped and small, but glad that these two were only small fish in the sea of Gotham's hierarchy of crime. He could still beat them without trouble, could allow for the mistakes he would normally have to avoid at all costs against more experienced, more powerful fighters.

With a kick he sent the bigger man flying against a wall, jumping over him with seeming effortlessness, still conscious of the cape and already aiming to disarm the other one coming at him again with a knife. The knife clattered down on the pavement before it could get anywhere near him, Batman disarming his opponent without trouble. But Dick could hear the bigger man behind him moving again, while he pulled this one by the arm, turning him to pull his arm behind his back hard and holding him immobile. His partner finally got the message then and was running away, before even trying to free his partner, loud footsteps in the night. “Sorry, pal,” he growled, still testing out this new voice; deeper than Nightwing's, but not nearly as menacing as Bruce's had been. He'd get the hang of it in time. He always did. If anything, Dick Grayson had always been a talented performer. “Seems your partner's more lucky than you tonight.” 

In less than a minute the guy was hanging down from a fire escape where the police could get him in a few minutes and Dick - _Batman_ swung away, up over the rooftops. He did not bother to follow the guy who got away. In fact his getting away suited Dick just fine tonight. After all tonight he'd had only one real objective: Letting Gotham's low lives know that Batman was back on the streets again. And there was no better way to do it than word of mouth.

He crouched himself down on a particularly dark ledge and watched the street. Although it was important to be seen on patrol tonight, there was no need to overdo it and make anyone suspicious too soon. Batman had his habits and most of them served him well. He had worked with Bruce for so long that he knew all about it, had even been trained to follow his example when out on his own. Some things just came easier than others.

There was a soft click and Dick knew that someone had opened a comm link. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody now. He wasn't really in the mood for a real emergency either. Not while he still felt so uncomfortable in his own skin – or costume. Hopefully it was only Alfred checking in on him - or maybe Tim had finally calmed down and was ready to talk to him again. 

Instead it was Barbara, clearing her throat after a slight pause. “Batman, this is Oracle and we have a fire in an apartment building in Burnley. You're close.” Her tone was business like, but again there was a moment of hesitation. “It's probably not appropriate to go on calling you bird boy now, _bat boy_?” His mouth drew into a hard line as he pressed his lips together and tried not to audibly sigh. He wasn't up to any of this banter tonight and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation. 

He could hear the sirens in the distance and decided to focus on the work at hand. “I'm close,” he agreed. His Batman voice slipped a little, closer to his normal voice. There was no need to pretend with Barbara, but still he knew that _Batman_ would never have let it slip like that. 

Via the rooftops it took him less than three minutes to arrive at the scene. The fire fighters seemed to have the situation well in hand, but two little girls were trapped on the third floor. It was easy enough for him to grab them from a window and set them down safely on the street beside a police car. A young officer stared at him with wide eyes, but he was already vanishing back into the night before he could say anything. “That was Batman,” one of the girls squealed excitedly. Dick just didn't have it in himself not to smile a little at _that_ , hidden away again in the darkness.

“How is it going?” Oracle asked.

“Fine,” he growled back, knowing that she would know the lie for what it was. She'd always been smart like that.

“I don't want to add to your grievances,” she said, audibly hesitating once again and choosing her words carefully. It was new territory between them, because even when they had been at the lowest points of their relationship and friendship, Barbara had never been anything but honest and practical as Oracle. “But you do know Robin is out on his own, right?”

Of course, they both already knew he didn't. Because _Robin_ was not supposed to be out on the streets yet and certainly not alone. There was still too much that Damian had to learn, to _understand_ before Dick would feel comfortable with letting him loose on the city unsupervised. Every Robin had to learn his lesson in the beginning. He had never forgotten the first time Two Face had nearly killed _him_ and he wanted Damian's first low to come at a time when _Batman_ was in a position to intervene in time. 

But Damian wasn't like any of them had been – both at this age and starting out as Robin. The boy had been taught by the league of assassins. He was highly trained and intelligent, but Talia had also fostered a dangerous strand of arrogance in her son. His morals and ethics had been ingrained into him by his mother and teachers, so it was to be expected that he didn't always easily recognize what was right or wrong or how far he was allowed to go. Even if he'd come to his father on his own – to be better, to follow in his foot steps, all of his abilities were a danger if the boy didn't learn to restrain himself when he had to. Even at his young age he was already the most lethal Robin that had ever hit these streets.

And Dick was aware that Damian was very much his responsibility now in more ways than one. Alfred had already taken the time to point out that Bruce had been impatient in his handling of the boy – and now he was dead and it fell to Dick to get through to his son.

“Batman? Are you still listening?” Barbara didn't sound worried, but a little tentative.

“Yes.” He suppressed another sigh. “Where's he headed?”

“He's heading south. I think he may be making his way towards the docks.”

He nodded to himself. “I've got it.”

A slight beep announced Alfred opening a connection. “Alfred?” he asked, not even surprised that Alfred was already on the case of their disobedient Robin. After all the man had brought all of them up – and sometimes back in line.

“Sir, I fear we may have a problem.”

“So, I've heard, Alfie. But then that part feels pretty normal at least, don't you think?”  
\--

All Robins did have to prove themselves at one point or another. It was part of the job and Batman would never have allowed just anyone to tag along. Dick knew all about that. He'd had to fight to get his place at Batman's side – maybe more than any of the others after him. And Bruce had tested him in his own harsh ways before he'd finally allowed it.

But this Robin was different. Damian was trying to prove a point here and not himself. 

If Dick knew anything about these things he'd say that this was a dangerous development. And he prided himself on knowing these things, because growing up with _the_ Batman and being part of the Teen Titans for so long had taught him a few things about people and teenagers and life. When Bruce had been around he and Damian had had their problems, but for the boy it was all about proving himself to his father. His real, biological father. But his father was gone and now it was all about proving a point to people who Damian didn't accept as family, maybe not even as _worthy_ , whatever that was supposed to mean in the twisted world view Talia must have bestowed on her son.

Dick understood the importance of family, had never forgotten about where he himself came from. But family was so much more than that and he'd learned that with Bruce and Alfred, later with Babs, Tim and the Titans. 

He hadn't known Damian long enough to see an easy way to teach him, yet, but he was determined to try.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on here, though. There was no time to dwell either. A girl was sitting on the street, her legs lying at an awkward angle beneath her, like she had fallen there. She couldn't be older than six or seven and was crying loudly, while Robin was taking out two men, dressed in dark suits, but looking like thugs. One man was down already, but Damian wasn't letting go of him, hitting him with unnecessary force now that he was no longer a threat. The guy was groaning and made no move to defend himself anymore. His partner was aiming a gun at Robin and the boy was already gauging how to take him out quickly, his hand moving to the throat of the man who was down as if he was going to land the killing blow before moving on.

And that was probably exactly what he was planning to do, too.

Batman was behind him in a second, pulling him away hard, taking out the remaining assailant in the process like an after thought. It must have looked quite impressive, because even Robin looked up at him a little stunned, making Dick think that maybe he was actually getting the hang of this. He had the man in cuffs in less than a second, profiting from his surprise at coming face to face with the Batman – who hadn't been seen in weeks. His partner wasn't moving, lying prone on the street, face nearly unrecognizable with blood and bruises.

“Send the police our way,” he growled into the comm, knowing either Alfred or Barbara would act on it. “And we'll need an ambulance.” Then he turned and just looked at Damian, clenching his jaw in a particularly disapproving way, consciously mimicking Bruce. Because Bruce had had this down to an art form whenever Dick had done something he disapproved of.

Damian was returning his stare, not backing down in the slightest – _never_ just backing down without a fight. 

“We don't kill,” Dick growled under his breath, as menacing as he'd been trying to sound all night, finally succeeding now that he was talking to the person who was supposed to be his new partner and not a criminal.

“It's a stupid rule,” Damian shot back viciously. 

“You better learn the rules or you'll be out of the game before you were ever in it.”

“They were hurting the girl,” Damian snapped back, angry, still not backing down. Bruce would have matched his anger, right here, right now, or later – back in the cave. Dick wasn't ready to let himself feel that kind of hot, searing anger. Not yet at least, because these days he had too many things on his mind that took priority, there was just no time for white, hot anger.

One very pressing priority was a bleeding, unconscious criminal on the pavement. The other was a small, probably traumatized girl sitting behind them, crying softly. Damian looked over his shoulder at her. “They were going to kill her,” he whispered and for the first time Dick thought he was hearing something like regret in his voice; maybe something else that was more like raw pain.

It made too much sense to feel that way about another child, but they were not going to have this conversation in the middle of the street.

This was really not how his first night as Batman should have gone. But maybe this had served as a lesson to someone. Even if that someone was the new protector of Gotham City.

**

Alfred escorted Damian out of the cave, up the stairs towards the mansion. Dick knew the boy would be back soon, probably the minute Alfred left him alone to brood. He was still trying to prove a point and there was just no simple way to make him stop before he was satisfied with the outcome. Damian could be as single minded as his father had been and he wasn't used to giving up – and he certainly wasn't used to admitting mistakes.

Which was one of the few things he probably had in common with other stubborn ten-year-olds.

Dick took of the cowl, glad to be rid of it for the night, even if the night wasn't over for him, yet.

Tim was sitting in the main chair in front of the computer screens. His face was a pale mask in the greenish lights they shed on him. “You still think he should be Robin?” he asked sharply, keeping his face neutral.

The question was justified, but Dick had no room for hesitation. This wasn't the time to doubt his own instincts. “He is going to be Robin.”

“So he makes trouble and you still choose him over me?” Tim's voice was cold, but he was visibly shaking with anger now. Dick had the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug the way he used to do when Tim had been younger – before he'd lost so much. But back then Tim had rarely been this angry. Recently he'd been nothing but. Maybe it was his way of coping, but it made it harder for Dick to reach out to him. Where was the boy who'd always looked up to Dick?

Standing in the cave, facing an angry Tim, wearing what used to be Bruce's costume and feeling like the worst kind of impostor, Dick had to wonder how they'd gotten to this point. When had this become his life? How had he ended up in Bruce's shoes?

Of course he knew the answers and none of them were nice enough to dwell on.

When Dick had returned to Gotham, leaving his life, day job and friends in New York behind once again like a memory of happier times, he’d known that life in Gotham would be very different from now on. But in his shocked state of disbelief and grief, the sudden bustle of moving back home and putting things in order, he’d never imagined _how_ different things would turn out to be. He'd spent too much time to built his own life. Bludhaven, New York and always, always Gotham. 

Death had always been a possibility for all of them, of course, but it had never occurred to Dick that he would have to be the one to pick up the pieces if Bruce died. Mostly because Bruce had cheated death so often that it had seemed like an unlikely possibility. Dick had been so much more worried for Tim.

Now Batman was dead and Dick had postponed the decision to take his adopted father’s place for as long as he could. To make the decision at all had been painful and he couldn’t spare the energy to argue about it now.

It had been expected that Batman's disappearance would be noticed on the streets of Gotham. And to be honest the all out war that had broken out on said streets hadn’t been completely unexpected either. This was Gotham City. Gang wars happened at the drop of a hat. Super villains battled every other week. 

Although none of them had ever openly discussed it before the fact, all of them had know that Batman wasn't immortal and that one day Gotham would be losing her knight. And of course, they had known that someone would take advantage of it. Someone usually did.

Dick had never pictured himself battling for the cowl, though. He always figured they would've worked out a suitable succession plan before something like this ever happened.

It had definitely been a bad time for Jason to step in and make even more trouble for them – the worst time, really. He'd always had an impeccable sense of timing. And he'd always had this very special ability to wind Dick up in the worst possible way. It hadn't made any of this easier on any of them. 

But it was Tim he was worried about the most. In the first days after Bruce's death they’d all thought that Tim was in denial, that he would start grieving and work through it soon – like he'd done before. But even now it seemed Tim was in denial to some extend. But the problems between him and Dick weren't emerging because of that, but because their plans for the future of Batman didn't mesh. Tim wanted Bruce’s legacy to live on as much as Dick did, but he couldn’t accept the change in their own dynamic that came with it.

He knew he'd been silent for too long when Tim said: “So that's it then?”

“I'm not choosing him over you, Tim. I can’t be your mentor. You don’t need me to be. We’re equals. _I_ need us to be. But _Damian_ needs to be taught... And that's what Robin is all about, isn't it?”

“You can’t train him, Dick. You can’t make him Robin. He's not. He shouldn't be!” Tim’s voice sounded tired, exhausted and slightly desperate. Dick remembered too well how that felt, because the same kind of tired desperation was with him all through the day ever since Bruce had left them behind to fight on their own.

What a mess.

But Dick couldn't allow himself to look back if he really wanted this to work. He was Batman now, even if it still hadn't really sunken in. If he didn't believe it, who would?

“Tim, really, let’s not argue about this again.” Not in front of Damian, he thought. The boy was smart and knew how to keep himself hidden, but Dick knew he had returned minutes ago and was now silently sitting in the dark on the stairs above them, listening in. The cave had always been the perfect place for hide and seek. He remembered that well from his own days as Robin, although Bruce had also nearly always known when he was around.

“You can’t be serious!” Tim cried out. By now Tim was actually trembling with rage. “He tried to kill me! He _killed_! And you’re going to give him my...” He stopped, staring at Dick as if he had just realized something important. “After all that happened with Jason, you should really know better.”

That hurt, but he kept himself from visibly flinching, wishing Tim wouldn't invoke the ghosts of their past – not this particular ghost who had come back from the grave to haunt them. 

Dick didn't take his eyes away from Tim. He also didn't miss the slight movement in the darkness, exactly where he was sure Damian was hiding. The cave was so very dark and cold; the fitting background for another family feud. Dick had seen many of those unfold here, but never had he been in this particular role before.

He'd known this conversation was coming for a while now. Ever since he had decided to give Damian a chance, ever since Bruce had died and Tim had closed off... Sometimes he thought the whole manor would have just come tumbling down if Alfred hadn’t been around to stop things from falling apart completely.

“Tim. I know you two didn’t exactly have a great start...”

“He tried to _kill_ me!” Tim’s voice resonated through the cave, like an anguished scream. Dick had a feeling it was a cry for help more than an accusation. Maybe everything that had happened to the boy he once knew really had been too much. But then Tim pulled himself together and added in a slightly more collected tone: “He nearly killed someone today, so don't tell me this was all just before he came here. You've seen what happened with Jason. How can you allow this? He shouldn't be taught!”

Of course, Tim had a point and he couldn't deny it. But he, Dick Grayson, had to do this his way now and he'd made up his mind. Too much was on the line and he’d already wasted a lot of time, because he’d felt unable to step up and make a decision. Even now he didn’t feel comfortable about it. _Jason_ had in many ways been involved in forcing his hand and that didn’t exactly make him one of his favorite topics right now. Not that he had been a favorite topic of anyone even before he'd come back from the dead, just because his name alone brought up painful memories, reminded Alfred of the boy they'd lost, Bruce of the kid he'd failed and Dick of a time he'd rather forget – even if Jason hadn't been at fault. 

And now Damian had turned into something similar for Tim, it seemed. And maybe _that_ was the root of the problem.

“Let's just not argue about this. I know what he’s done. He’s also saved your live when Jason left you for dead. Just last week. Remember that? He needs guidance...”

“Like Jason needed guidance?”

“He’s not Jason. He’s Bruce’s son.” Better to end this discussion as quickly as possible and move on. He needed Tim on his side. All of this would be hard enough as it was.

“And you think that means anything? You and even Bruce admitted it was wrong to train Jason and...”

“Tim! Stop it!!” Now he could hear his own voice echoing through the cave. Even the sound was empty. _I know you’re grieving_ he wanted to say, _we all are..._ , but he just couldn’t make himself say it out loud. Not in this place. It hit too close to home. “He’s _not_ Jason. I’m not sending him away to his mother! And that’s the end of it.”

Tim actually glowered at him. He’d never expected to ever see Tim like this, because the kid had always been the reasonable, responsible one. Not that Dick wasn’t both of these things, too. But Tim had once had the potential to come out of this job as a normal person and just leave the vigilante business behind, something that had never been true for Dick. Now it seemed like Bruce and Tim's own very recent trauma had influenced Tim more than Dick had ever realized.

“He kills. A ten year old boy, Dick. He’ll kill again.”

“He wants to be better than that. He needs to be given a chance.” _He’s our brother._ ”

“Bruce gave Jason the same chance.”

Dick shook his head. Tim didn’t understand, because at this very moment he didn’t _want_ to. How could he explain? “Yeah, maybe he did. He gave the same chance to Cassandra. _She_ wanted to break free. Jason was different, though. He was no killer. But did Jason ever really want the help? Think about it. Damian came to his father to become something better than he was taught to be. He gave up everything to be here. Don’t yo see the difference? Would he be here if he didn’t want our _help_? Bruce took Jason in. He didn’t have anything to give up, because he was already living on the streets. A traumatized, lonely kid with spunk enough to steal from the Batman. Someone who had nothing, who had nothing to lose either. That’s different. Can’t you see? Everything back then was different.”

Tim shook his head, still visibly shaking with anger. Dick was reminded of his own younger self, disagreeing with Bruce, arguing to the point of violence, sent away never to be Robin again. Dick had asked himself so very often how things could have been different then if he and Bruce hadn’t been so preoccupied with being mad at each other over _everything_. He had only really tried to get to know Jason towards the end. He'd never been the older brother that he'd tried to be for Tim. And all had started with Dick walking out and Bruce telling him that then he couldn't be Robin anymore...

He recognized some of his own pain from back then in Tim's eyes now. “Don’t be mad at Damian for my decisions, Tim. Don’t be,” he said with a sigh. He really didn't want Tim to feel the way he'd felt when Bruce had replaced him.

“I’m not sure I can.” 

Dick nodded his head, understanding too well what Tim must be feeling now. “Be mad at me then.”

“Oh, I am, Dick. I'm so very mad at you right now.” He turned to leave. And Dick knew how it felt to walk away from the cave like this. He felt bad that he was the one putting Tim through it. _Maybe I should do the same thing once again,_ he thought sadly. _Leave it all behind. The cave belongs to Bruce and not me._

“Tim! You’re my brother – my friend. I need someone here who sees eye to eye with me.” _I need you._

Tim stood stock still for a very long moment, then looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. “My life’s falling apart all over again. I just can’t stand around and watch _this_ on top of everything else.”

Again things were falling apart and he didn’t feel like he could stop it and that was something Dick could emphasize with. “I can't stand to argue with you about this now.”

Tim nodded, calm now, and walked out. For a moment Dick expected him to run right into Damian on his way up, but, of course, the boy had changed his hiding place long before, probably the moment Dick had spotted him.

He sighed heavily. It was a strange moment for realization, but suddenly he understood some of Bruce’s decisions so much better than before: Sometimes Gotham and the fight for her had to take precedence over everything else for this to work, even if your own family was at stake. Gotham was a war zone right now and he had to really find a way to make all of this work. He didn’t like it, but Tim’s hurt feelings had to wait.

Tiredly he rubbed at his eyes. “You can come out now, by the way, Damian,” he told the darkness, without looking at the spot where he supposed the boy was hiding now.

He wasn’t really surprised when Damian stepped out of the shadows and scowled at him with a dark expression that would've put Bruce to shame. And Dick had a very distinct feeling that this wasn’t about what the boy had overheard, but about the fact that he had been noticed in the first place. He considered asking Damian about what he'd overheard, but after his argument with Tim he didn’t particularly wish to hear the vile remarks that constantly left Damian’s mouth whenever he opened it.

“I don’t need anybody’s help,” the boy said grimly, making it clear that he resented the notion that he was here because he needed help.

“Of course not,” Dick agreed darkly.

Damian narrowed his eyes at him in defiance. He must have heard what Dick had told Tim and wanted to be taken seriously. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, right.” In fact Dick was beginning to think that maybe he was the one in desperate need of help here. It was painfully obvious that he wasn’t Bruce, because the _real_ Batman would never have bothered with these arguments in the first place. But then nobody could claim that Bruce had never been wrong when it came to family matters. “And I don’t need a partner. But I’m still going to be your mentor. Take it or leave it.” He turned his back on Damian to make it clear that this discussion was over for now. “Go to bed now.”

Behind him Damian was hesitating, something he rarely did, but a second later he moved up the stairs towards the mansion without another word, looking grim.

“You have your work cut out for you, I believe,” Alfred said softly when he finally arrived at the top of the stairs an hour or so later, no longer Batman but Dick Grayson.

“That's an understatement,” he smiled tiredly.

Alfred watched him calmly for a long moment without blinking and then nodded. “You should get some sleep, too. It will be easier to face this challenge when you're properly rested.”

He nodded, not bothering to stifle a yawn. “Right, right. Good night, Alfred.”

“Good night.” 

On his way out the door he stopped and turned. “Do you think I'm doing the right thing?”

Alfred gave him a sad smile and it was a little painful for Dick to see it. It wasn't hard to imagine what Alfred was thinking about. He'd been here when Bruce had started out as Batman.bNow the next generation was following in his wake. “You have my full confidence. But that's not what you're worried about, is it?”

“No. Am I making things worse for Tim?”

“What did you do, when you could no longer be Robin? Was it easy?” Alfred asked.

Obviously the answer was “no” and he shook his head, but then added: “But I wasn't alone.”

“Right, so lets make sure Master Timothy knows he isn't alone either.”

Dick chuckled, because that made it sound so easy. “What would we do without you, Alfred?”

“I have no idea, _sir_.”

This time Dick laughed out loud and with a wave exited into the dark hallway. Of course, Tim wouldn't be alone. He had friends and family. And Dick wouldn't be alone in this either. “Batman” was a family business – and now he only had to manage the minor task of convincing Tim and Damian that they were both part of it.

He really had his work cut out for him.

**

Dick caught a few hours of sleep. When he woke up he stared up at the ceiling in confusion for a while before he finally remembered that he wasn't in New York anymore, but back home in Gotham. His room in the manor always brought back memories both good and bad. He’d felt welcome and at home here, at times locked-in and during their roughest phase he’d finally felt caged and later unwanted. 

But he’d never before felt lost in his own room.

He dragged himself up from the bed, throwing on the first clothes he could easily grab from his still packed bags. He'd told Alfred he should leave them and that Dick would unpack them himself. That had been nearly two weeks ago.

For a while he had considered moving to one of their safe houses or various apartments, just to feel more comfortable.

In the end it had been more convenient for everyone to stay at the manor. But Dick was sure that would only be a temporary solution for himself. Staying here made him feel restless and strange, especially without Bruce around.

He stepped out and walked towards Tim's room. Probably best not to put their talk off too long and instead face their problems head on. He knocked, but there was no immediate answer. “Tim?” he called, knocking on his door again. “Tim?”

Alfred walked past and didn’t even stop to inform him: “He’s down in the kitchen. He’s been there for a while.”

“Thanks, Alfie,” he sighed, “I have a feeling that I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now, but still...”

“You should talk to him, Richard.” Did that mean Tim was in the mood for talking or did it mean he desperately needed some sense talked into him? Alfred had obviously decided that Dick would be able to figure that out himself. “Master Damian is still at school.”

It was hard to imagine Damian sitting in a class full of normal kids, because at home he never bothered to hide any part of his very unique upbringing and _personality_.

Dick shrugged and made his way down the steps, knowing that Alfred would notice how he’d actually take the steps one at a time. Tim was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a cup of what looked like untouched hot chocolate - something Alfred frequently made for them when he felt they needed cheering up. And who in this household didn’t need cheering-up more often than not?

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tim said looking up at him with a neutral expression. Neutral expressions were never good in this family, everyone had altogether too much experience with hiding their emotions and keeping secrets.

“Are there any of Alfred’s blueberry muffins left?”

Tim shrugged. “There are some chocolate ones. Don’t know about blueberry.”

Starting a banal conversation had been the easy part. He had spent most of his own youth guiding other teenagers, while still caught up in the grand confusion of growing up himself. But his own family had always been a special case with Bruce as the _slightly_ dysfunctional role model for all of them. And Tim had changed so much in the last few years, not only growing-up – and he had grown into a handsome young man – and coping with tragedy, but also becoming more and more like their brooding mentor. Well, he had always been a brilliant detective. Investigation and putting clues together had come to him so easily even when he'd been a kid.

Dick wanted to explain to Tim what this whole mess was like for him, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind was warning him that this wasn't what Tim needed to hear just now. 

He picked up a chocolate muffin, taking a bite. “You better get a plate for that, before Alfred catches you,” Tim said, watching him intently, but still not giving away much.

“What's he going to do? I'm Batman,” Dick declared, took another bite and sat down in a chair opposite from Tim, who chuckled at the joke.

“You know he isn't really afraid of Batman. Never was. He knows how to handle bats.”

“I'll eat fast then,” Dick chuckled. Bantering was always a nice way to ease the tension, but now it was time to choose his words carefully. Silence had never been uncomfortable between them and even now it wasn't. Not exactly. Because even through the tension they really both wanted to say something. Dick waited, giving Tim the time to speak first, but when he had finished the muffin he leaned back in the chair and decided that he'd had enough time. “Listen, Tim, about yesterday... I know what that feels like and I don't want you to think you've been kicked out or something. Being Robin or not doesn't really change anything,”

Tim raised a hand in a defensive gesture. “You know that's rubbish, Dick. Of course, it changes things. It changed things for you.”

“It also helped me to reinvent myself. I'm not saying it was the nicest thing that could have happened, but I've grown up. I was ready to be my own man.”

“Were you? Or did you have to be?”

“I was, Tim. Half of the arguments I had with Bruce back then happened because he couldn't see how ready I was to be treated like an adult.”

Timothy leaned back to take a long look at him, finally letting some emotion show on his face. “Are you trying to convince me that this is good for _me_?”

He let out a heavy sigh – one he hadn't known he'd been holding in. “You're right. Maybe I'm trying to convince myself here. Because it worked out for me. And really Tim you're all grown up. You don't need me to teach you. But that doesn't mean I don't need you.” His eyes met Tim's and held his gaze over the table. Tim had the sudden look of a deer caught in the headlights, and _that_ didn't make sense, did it? “I need someone who tells me when I'm wrong or an idiot,” he continued, trying to finally get something from Tim.

“You have Alfred to do that.”

“We all have Alfred to do that, of course,” Dick agreed with a smile. “But really, it's not easy for me to do this. I'm not even sure I can do this.” He didn't specify, but hoped that Tim would understand that “this” really meant “replacing Bruce”, “replacing Batman”. “I really want to know that we are still in this together.”

Tim nodded, this time looking up to properly look at him. “I...” he said and then stopped. Then he hunched his shoulders and sighed. “I understand, Dick. I do. I get what you were saying about Damian being the one who needs a mentor instead of me. I get it.”

“Do you?” Because Dick had his doubts.

“Yeah. You think you can help him. Fine. That's fine. I think it's a stupid idea, but it's fine. I see why you think it's best...”

Dick shifted in his chair, throwing an arm casually over the back. “But?” Tim was still pointedly looking away, his eyes partially hidden behind the long bangs of his hair.

It took a moment for Tim to reply, but Dick didn't prompt him again. It was only fair to give him the time to think things through before voicing his thoughts, because anger had already caused to much tension between them.

“There is no but, Dick.” Tim leaned forward to briefly rest his face in his hands before looking up and finally meeting Dick's gaze. “I get what you're saying about being equals...” The slight insecurity or whatever it had been that Dick had seen in Tim's gaze had vanished. Tim's gaze was calm and calculating now, and only someone who knew him as well as Dick could see the underlying exhaustion and weariness. “But I can't stay here watching Damian take my place. I won't stay to watch it.” He rushed the words out as if he wanted to be done with it. “I have to leave for a while. Just to figure out where my place is in all this.”

It hurt to hear these words. The circumstances might be different, but Dick remembered too much what that had felt like not to feel a stab of guilt now. His hands were clenching into fists and he couldn't do anything to stop himself. Tim flinched again, although Dick wasn't sure why. He wasn't about to hit Tim for feeling confused and angry – and Tim should really know him well enough to know it, so Dick couldn't help the feeling that he was missing something again. 

“I'm sorry,” Tim whispered. “But I can't stay.”

Dick was out of his chair and beside Tim in an instant, not giving him a chance to get up and leave, instead pulling him up and into a hug. They were both strong and had been trained by the best, so he was sure if Tim really wanted to escape he would do so. But he didn't make any move to get away and after an awkward moment slung his arms around Dick's sides and hesitantly returned the hug. “I'm really sorry,” he said again and sounded almost broken.

“No need to be sorry, Tim. Really. I understand. And I'm sorry, really, really sorry that this is happening.” He sighed. “Please believe me. I'm sorry.”

Tim sniffed against his chest and Dick peered down at him cautiously to make sure he wasn't crying. Instead Tim was looking up at him, sadness clearly showing on his face, but no trace of tears. For a moment he was thinking that maybe tears would have been better, but then he quenched the thought feeling another wave of quilt coming on. None of them had yet taken the time to really grief and share their pain with each other – and maybe a conversation like this should have happened much sooner. 

“You don't have to be sorry. You never have to be sorry,” Tim whispered and it sounded like another apology of his own. 

It seemed today they weren't done yet with feeling sorry. “I wish that were true,” Dick whispered. He wasn't only talking about their particular situation. Everyone made mistakes and especially with the life they had chosen even simple mistakes could have disastrous consequences all the time. All of them knew that, all of them had made mistakes like that and all of them would probably make mistakes again. There were always past regrets, always things to feel guilty for, people you hadn't managed to safe. Always things to feel sorry for.

With a loud sigh that practically echoed through he kitchen Tim stepped away from him and said: “Bruce blamed himself for what happened to Jason all the time. I know you do, too. Sometimes. Differently. For how things were between you.” There wasn't much he could do but nod in answer. He'd been thinking about this a lot in recent days and of course their argument of last night had brought up many unpleasant memories. Tim knew him well enough to at least be aware of some of it. “Don't teach Damian, because you feel guilty, Dick.”

“I'm not.” And that much was true. Jason was on his mind all the time when he thought about Bruce and the mistakes he had made as a mentor, but today Dick was sure that taking Jason in and giving him a chance hadn't been a mistake. Yes, he had been unstable. Yes, he had been prone to violence. Yes, he could be outright vile sometimes. But there had been potential. And nobody could have foreseen that one day he would be killed and then come crawling from his grave even more violent and traumatized. Things like that just didn't happen to normal families.

“Okay,” Tim said simply. “I can't stop you anyway.”

“Well, I guess, I can't keep you from leaving either.” Dick smiled sadly. “Just know that you belong here, okay?”

Tim returned his smile and nodded. “Sure. I know.” He stuffed his hands into his pant pockets and looked away. They were still standing pretty close to each other and Dick caught Tim staring at his lips, then quickly look away again.

“Something wrong? Did I get chocolate all over my face again?”

He wasn't sure if he was imagining the slight red tinge that cam to Tim's cheeks, tried not to read too much into it and was relieved when Tim started laughing: “That's actually the weirdest thing _Batman_ has ever asked me?”

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe laughing together was helping them even more than, sharing their grief.

**

Before he went on patrol that night, Alfred helped him to work out some possible changes for the costume. “It'll still be to heavy,” he sighed.

“It's a start. You will learn to wear that costume in time,” Alfred reassured him, but his brow was creased in thought. 

“I'm not sure that'll work.”

“Then maybe you should stop trying to find a way to make yourself fit the costume and instead find a way to make the costume fit you.”

That made him pause and look at both the schematics and then Alfred again. “Was that what I was doing?”

“I believe so.” Alfred seemed sad at the mere thought of it and Dick honestly didn't know what to say to him that would help. They all missed Bruce especially down here in the cave where his absence was felt the most. Not even strange to think that this was were he would be missed so much, when nobody had yet batted an eyelash at Bruce Wayne's disappearance from Gotham social life. Strange, if not surprising at all. After all Bruce Wayne was known to disappear once in a while to pursue his own outrageous adventures.

Something would have to be done about that, too. Another problem to solve.

Damian came bouncing down the stairs in sweat pants and T-shirt. He looked more like the kid that he was than he usually did, and much like with Bruce Dick had to ask himself if the cave might be bringing out a different side in Damian. But then the first thing out of the boy's mouth was: “Is it true? Drake is leaving?”

The dark and cold around them seemed fitting, because although he and Tim had managed to clear up some of the tension between them, the prospect of Tim actually leaving them without any real plan of where to go or when to come back made Dick nervous. Most shocking was that about an hour ago Dick had briefly entertained the thought of just going with him, even if he had known that it was out if the question.

“He will be leaving us in the morning,” Alfred answered, because it had become apparent that Dick wasn't about to say anything.

“Good,” Damian said and then looked up at him seriously. “Can we train now?”

“I'm going on patrol. But Alfred will find a way to keep you occupied.” Alfred gave him one of those completely neutral looks that nevertheless managed to tell him Alfred knew exactly that he was avoiding this conversation. He shrugged slightly and Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Try to stay safe,” he said calmly.

Much later he dragged himself from the Batmobile and found Damian alone in the cave, reading through all the files Bruce had kept about Jason. When he stepped up to the chair Damian was occupying the boy gave him an impatient sort of sideways glance and then asked: “Long night?”

“The city is still going a little crazy.”

“You could use a partner.”

“You're only going out when I say you're ready.” And it wasn't up for negotiation.

Damian pointed to a picture of Red Hood and said: “He kills criminals.” By now he shouldn't be amazed by the fact how Damian could sound much older than his years – and so much like he had once imagined how Bruce must have sounded like as a boy. It was uncanny.

He watched the picture of Jason, asking himself what really was going on in his head. “He was taught better.”

It was obvious what Damian thought of his answer, in the way his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Drake thinks I'm like that.”

“Why don't you prove him wrong?”

Damian leaned back to watch him. In the darkness of the cave it looked much like he was glowering at him – and maybe he was. “I could betray you,” he stated softly. His voice was rarely soft. Dick was beginning to think that Damian was really a child full of conflicts, not the brash, deadly little assassin they'd met over a year ago at Talia's side. A deadly, conflicted child.

Conflict. He looked back at Jason's file. Conflict wasn't something new. Why else would Damian have chosen to be here. “You won't. You want to be part of your father's legacy.”

Something flickered in the boy's dark eyes. “I should be his heir,” he declared vehemently, all brash arrogance once again. _Not you._ “His only heir.”

“Well, you know how it is. We can fight to the death, but even if you win, there will still be Tim. You're lucky. Jason was taken out of the equation by circumstance,” he joked. He sincerely hoped that Damian had enough of a concept of humor to understand he was joking.

“That's not funny.” Aha. So he did recognize humor at least. That was something Dick would be able to work with.

But now was probably not the time for more attempts at making Damian laugh or joke along. Because they clearly had a long way to go on that account. There was a much bigger problem lurking here, and if Dick was serious about mentoring him and trusting him like a partner, then maybe they should try to solve it sooner rather than later. “Okay. Look. There is no need to feel threatened or ignored or treated unfairly. Tim and I – we're Bruce's family and have been for years. We're here and you'll have to live with it. But you _are_ his son. Nobody is contesting that and no one can take it away.” Damian grimaced slightly, before his expression turned into an impressive scowl. It was unfortunate that Damian hadn't had more time to really get to know the man who'd been his father. “You're brilliant. You can fight. You can show dedication. But you have a lot to learn about boundaries, team work and investigating. You want to be a detective, you'll have to learn _how_ to do it. And I think you might have to learn a few things about family on the way, too.”

Damian made a dismissive sound and folded his arms over his chest. “You're not my family.”

“No. I'm, not. But I could be. That's how it happened with Bruce and with Tim. And even with Jason. Family isn't all about blood.”

That shut Damian up. He didn't unfold his arms and didn't stop scowling, but the silence seemed to indicate that at least he was processing what Dick had just told him. And Dick knew the kid was smart enough to figure out that he'd just been offered a chance.

“What about him?” he finally asked with a slight nod at Jason's file. 

“You're not him.” And if the both of them were lucky, this Batman would never lose a Robin to a tragedy like that again. “And maybe he's not himself all the time either. Who knows?”

“Hmm.” Damian stared at the floor in front of him. Then he straightened slightly. “Mother contacted me. She wants me to come home.” For Dick that didn't come as surprise. Talia would have contacted Damian as soon as it had become apparent that Batman was gone. But Damian was still here.

“You have your reasons to be here, Damian. If you'd really wanted to be back with your mom, would you still be here?” He didn't expect an answer and Damian didn't bother to give him one. But he gave him a small sideways glance and Dick was reading an answer into that just fine. Damian had learned all he knew about family from one of the few families that were more messed up than the one he was now part of – and Dick would never believe that this wasn't part of the reason why he had chosen to get to know his father better. 

He wasn't sure Damian would allow touch. They didn't really trust each other enough just yet. A hug was out of the question, but he cautiously put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Damian wasn't in costume, but still watching his own hand on the small shoulder made Dick remember Bruce squeezing his own shoulder whenever he'd needed reassurance. “You belong here now, if you want to. Make the best of it.”

**

In the morning – Dick had only caught two hours sleep – it was time to say good-bye to Tim. 

Alfred woke him so Tim wouldn't leave without at least talking to him one last time. As always Alfred made sure that their little family functioned, even when everything was going down the drain. Dick dressed haphazardly and followed Alfred down the stairs and into their considerable front yard.

Alfred didn't say anything, but Dick could see that he would have preferred for Tim to stay with them. It was unlikely that Tim would leave without explaining himself to Alfred first, but Dick had no idea how that talk had gone down.

Tim seemed like a man haunted by a ghost, restless and unwilling to put this departure off any longer. He hadn't packed much, but like Dick he had his own hideouts and safe places stocked with all the things he would need. And it wasn't as if Tim would want for money. And, of course, he was more than capable to look after himself. He had grown up as Robin. So what was Dick worried about then?

“Dick,” Tim said, with a self-conscious smile. “Alfred thinks there's something I should tell you.”

“There is?” He looked over his shoulder at Alfred and back at Tim, belatedly thinking that maybe he wasn't really awake enough for a serious talk just yet.

“Yeah,” Tim said softly.”I'm not sure how to...”

Dick was really beginning to think that maybe he was missing something important.

Alfred cleared his throat beside him and nodded at Tim encouragingly. “He should know. Just tell him.”

Different emotions were flitting across Tim's face, fear, frustration, sadness – and then there was the ever present anger again – but in the end he only looked said and impossibly insecure. “I can't...” he told Alfred.

And Dick thought it was time to shake himself awake and push Tim along a little. “You know you can tell me everything.”

“I want to,” Tim sighed, “but you'll think I'm crazy.”

“Tim, really. We're all a little crazy here and you used to know that. So what is it?”

Tim fidgeted a little, something that Dick hadn't seen him do in years. “I have this strange feeling ...”

Alfred gave Dick a long look as if he was warning him not to overreact at whatever he was going to hear next. Tim caught the exchange and shrugged his shoulders at Alfred in a slightly apologetic gesture. Was this still about being sorry for leaving? “Feeling?” Dick asked, more confused than he felt he should be.

“I can't believe Bruce is dead and...” Tim faltered and swallowed whatever he had wanted to say. “I can't believe he's gone. And I'm not ready to give up on this...”

Pain was constricting his chest. He saw white, as if the world had suddenly lost all the colors and squeezed his eyes shut to block everything out. He took a deep breath. “Oh, Tim,” Dick said, before he could stop himself. His voice was tinged with pain, with sadness, grief. He had been sure that Tim hadn't taken the time to grief properly, but suddenly he realized that he hadn't taken the time either. He'd had too much on his hands. Breathing was hard. But he fought to push the words out: “I'd love this to be true, Tim. I really would. But we've to face that he's gone. There is no way to deny it.”

“I can't face it. Not as long as I feel there's something wrong,” Tim's sounded slightly panicked, but got himself under control quickly. “I'm sorry. I thought you should know.”

Alfred stepped forward, touching his arm to draw his attention away from Tim. Dick looked at him, but Alfred had all his attention on Tim. “Timothy,” he said, calm and collected, but like he was scolding a little child. He'd witnessed him use this voice on Bruce more than once. 

Tim shook his head and made a move towards his motorcycle. Dick didn't want to see him go like that, but couldn't think of anything to say or do about it. He was still shocked by Tim's admission. Shocked and scared and sympathetic. Then it was Tim to stepped back towards them and threw himself against Dick, embracing him. “I'm really sorry, but I have to do this.”

He was momentarily too stunned to react, but reached up without thinking to pat Tim on the back of the head. This time – when he looked down to catch Tim's eyes – there were a few tears. Dick reached around him to crush him against his chest in a crushing embrace.

“I'm sorry,” Tim said again, “but I have to do this. I'm not crazy.”

“No, you're grieving.” _You're in denial._

Tim stepped out of his embraced and walked towards his bike, picking up his helmet. “What if I'm right?”

Dick smiled sadly. “Then we can all stop going crazy and go back to normal, I guess.” And how wonderful would it be if that were possible. 

After that there was no need for big good-byes. Nobody was in the mood for long speeches of reassurance. Everything was slightly out of balance again.

“When I come back, I'll know,” was the last thing Tim said to him before driving off. Dick thought he was probably right about that. Tim would come back when he had an answer, when he'd figured out himself and when he was really ready to move on.

“He'll come back to us,” Alfred said and Dick turned around to look at him, watched him watching Tim drive off into the distance, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

“Of course, he will.” 

“He still hasn't told you what he was supposed to tell you,” Alfred added before he vanished back into the manor without him.

**

When he'd returned to his room, he was too awake to fall back asleep right away. Now he was more worried about Tim then ever, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Tim was old enough to make his own decisions _and_ Dick had really enough on his plate right now. He really needed to talk to someone.

He picked up his cell. The first person that came to mind was Babs, of course, but their relationship had been tense of late. He still missed her, both as lover and a friend, and he hoped that they could at least save the friendship somehow. Calling her now was out of the question. He needed a friend who wasn’t as closely involved in all this, someone who'd just listen.

The phone rang and Dick caught himself staring at it stupidly for a moment before sitting down on his bed and picking up.

“Hey, short pants, how’s it going, settling back in? How is Gotham?”

“Wally?”

“Yes? Did you expect someone else to call you?” Wally chuckled. “Let me guess. She's hot?”

Dick laughed and felt lighter already. “Actually I was about to call _you_.” And Wally would have been the first person on his list of friends he would have thought of – so it wasn't a lie. 

“Oh. Okay. I'm hot, too.”

Dick chuckled again. “How are the kids?”

“You know how kids are,” he chuckled. “And mine are a bit too much like me to make life easy for their parents.”

“I can only imagine. You were a menace.”

Wally laughed out loud. “The way I remember it you weren't always a boy scout either.”

“Not always, no.”

They chuckled together, remembering all the mischief they had been up to as kids living at Titans Tower. But Wally hadn't called to reminisce and the mood turned serious a second later. “So? How are you really? I've seen the news about the Dark Knight's sudden return all over the news channels.”

He sighed, put a hand over his eyes and let himself fall back against the mattress. “Do you really want to know?”

“Oh, believe me, Dick. If anyone has a vague idea what you're going through it's me,” he chuckled without mirth. “So? How is it going?”

“Don't get me started. It's a mess.” He didn't really want to go into the details of why it was a mess, why he didn't fell comfortable wearing the cowl and why every step of this was feeling like a battle. But Wally understood part of what remained unsaid.

“You'll learn to cope,” Wally said earnestly. “It'll get better and one day it will even feel real.”

“I sincerely hope so.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead and asked: “Is it messed up that it's not really my only problem?”

“A little. What is it?”

He tried to summarize his problems with both Damian and Tim without ranting at Wally.

“So you're training a little bat spawn to be Robin?”

“Don't say that. I'm sure he's a sweet kid underneath. I mean with Bruce and Talia as parents there must be a little sunshine hidden under all the gloomy aggression.”

Wally snickered. “Keep telling yourself that. If anyone can find the ray of sunshine it's you.”

“I think he's okay in his own weird messed up and overly violent and antisocial way. He's not had it easy and I think he's really upset about Bruce. He came here to have a chance to know him and now all he's left with is a Bat impostor.”

“You're not an impostor. You're the next generation. An update. Bats 2.0.”

“I wish.”

“Let yourself grow into it. You have to let Bruce go. Things have to change a little to make it work.”

“Oh my God, Wally, when did you become so wise? You sound like Alfred,” Dick exclaimed. Astounding how good it felt to banter with Wally about all the terrible things in his life like they were gossipy teenagers once again.

“Hey, I've always been the secret head of the League. Did nobody tell you?”

They joked around for a while, until Wally sobered up again and asked: “Your worried about Tim? Don't you think he knows what he's doing? Maybe you should take a leaf from his book? Clear your head?”

“I'm worried that's not what he's doing.” But Wally was right with one thing: Dick should take his own advice and find his own way to deal with things. “And what's up with whatever he's not telling me?”

Wally made a short strangled sound. “Dick, really! Aren't you supposed to be some kind of detective? Hasn't papa bat taught you anything?”

“What?”

“Oh, please. The boy figured out that you guys were Batman and Robin, because he recognized Richard Grayson's well sculptured ass whatever costume he wore.”

A startled laugh escaped him and it didn't sound like it was his own voice at all. “You're crazy.”

“You're dense for someone who's so incredibly smart, you know? He basically stalked you and you're honestly telling me it never occurred to you that he had a crush on you?”

He couldn't say it had _never_ occurred to him. But Tim had been pretty young and easily excited so he'd never given it too much of a thought. And then Tim had grown up, found other people to crush on, to date, and Dick had basically put it out of his mind. He replayed the memories of the last two days in his head, taking note of all their encounters and came to a startling conclusion. “Oh.”

“That's one way to put it, _detective wonder_.”

**

“We'll need new headquarters. I need to do this my own way,” he declared in the evening. 

Damian who was running through a training session stopped in mid movement and Alfred turned to look at him with something that could have been like pride. “We should be able to find a place, that is suitable quickly enough.”

Dick smiled and looked at the slight changes they'd made to the costume.

Things were getting better one step at a time. He shouldn't get impatient when things weren't going his way.

By the time Tim would be ready to return home, Dick would have things under control – and maybe they could have a talk about the things that were really important then.

**

He was flying at the man with the machine gun in an effortless motion, kicking the weapon as far away as possible. Robin was behind him, taking out the second bank robber, faster than any kid should be able to. When the man fell to his knees with a hiss, Robin backed off and instead made sure that both of the criminals would not be able to get back to their weapons. Batman nodded at him, his mouth curving up in a small smirk. Robin nodded back, falling in step beside him a moment later. 

The police arrived the minute they were done. “We were just called in,” the sergeant said gruffly. “How did you get here so fast?” But when he turned to look, Batman had already vanished into the night. 

Swinging up over the rooftops was easy. Nothing was dragging him down. Things were going his way again. Now he felt ready for whatever Gotham City would throw at him tonight. Things had calmed down a bit, now that all of the cities citizens knew that Batman was still out there. A different Batman, but only those who had known much about the old one knew that. Some of Gotham's super-powered criminals had known right away and he'd not made any effort to hide it from the police – and that had actually helped his reputation with the force.

Damian was still a little vile brat most of the time, but they were starting to work well as Batman and Robin and in a strange way the city was welcoming them.

“Someone is watching us,” Robin announced, staring into the night beyond the next rooftop, right in the direction where they'd left the new and Damian-improved Batmobile. 

“I know,” he growled back, the gravely voice now coming effortlessly.

“Aren't you going to...”

“He'll show himself when he's ready.”

Robin frowned and took a defensive stance just in case. Batman smiled at his effort. 

“Things have changed a lot in recent weeks. Since when is Batman smiling?”

Robin didn't change his stance, but turned his head toward Batman, as if he was asking a question. Batman only shrugged and turned around to face the newcomer. “You've found a new identity for yourself.”

Tim shrugged. “I'm still part of the game.”

They stared at each other for a moment over the distance, both taking in the changed costumes and stance of the other. “You look good,” Tim said after a moment of silence.

“You can't even see me. I'm wearing a cape and cowl,” Batman grumbled and after a pause added. “And you can't see my butt either, because it's hidden by the cape, _Red Robin_.”

Startled laughter escaped Tim, but he chocked it down. Robin was staring at Batman, scandalized, but keeping his silence.

“So are you back in Gotham to stay?”

“At least for now. I still think I'm right about _him_.”

Damian stared at him, frowning behind the Domino style mask and twisting his mouth in distaste. “I don't think he's talking about you,” Batman warned him, before Damian could retaliate.

Tim – Red Robin now – shrugged unconcernedly. “Maybe I am.”

Dick very much had to roll his eyes at that, although of course they couldn't see him do it behind the mask. So he sighed and said in something that passed for a voice more like his own. “When I said I needed someone around to be my equal, I meant it in an in and _out_ of costume sort of way. I just didn't know then that you'd be interested in the out of costume part.” That should be suggestive enough. After all Tim was a brilliant detective in his own right. 

Silence. 

But then Damian shook his head and hid his face in one of his gloved hands. “I soooo did not need to hear this.” Maybe Damian was already getting better at putting together clues, too.

And there was a soft _Oh_ of understanding from Tim.

**

They didn't talk about their little realizations before they reached Dick's new home base. Damian jumped out of the Batmobile, stuck out his tongue at Tim in one of the most childish gestures Dick had ever seen him make and vanished as fast as possible.

“Master Timothy, you're back,” Alfred said in pleased tone. “You'll excuse me for a moment. I'll have to make sure, Master Damian eats before he goes to bed.” He turned to leave, smiling at Dick more than at Tim.

“Can I kiss you now?” Tim asked, sounding strangely excited and apprehensive at the same time.

“I'd prefer to see you're whole face for that,” Dick answered, pulling the cowl off his own face with one hand. 

“Oh,” Tim said again, strangely breathless and shy. But he pulled down his mask immediately. Tim looked disheveled and wide eyed without his own mask, but stepped forward without any hesitation to lean up, simultaneously burying a hand in Dick's hair and pulling him down hard to meet his lips. Their first kiss was awkward and kind of chaste, and they broke apart slightly – Tim's hand not leaving his hair – to stare at each other in amazement, seeing each other with different eyes for the first time.

“We'll have to talk about this eventually,” Dick said softly, only inches away from Tim's wet lips.

Tim seemed to see that as invitation and leaned up again, this time kissing him hard and surprisingly forceful. Dick lost himself in the sensation, sneaking one arm around Tim and getting caught in his cape. 

When they broke apart for a second time, Tim whispered: “We can talk later.”

“Yes. But we'll have that talk.” Dick had more than enough time to think this through. He was amazed at the attraction, how he had ignored the spark that had always been there, how he'd missed the signs. It didn't matter though, he still felt a little uneasy at the thought of ruining their friendship, possibly their family dynamics by attempting something more. He kind of had a track record for that. 

This time there would have to be a very long talk indeed, before anything could go wrong.

But Tim was still looking up at him with wonder and love – and lust? - in his eyes, so he supposed it could wait a little longer. He tightened his arms around Tim and pressed them closer together, sliding a hand along Tim's side and eliciting a soft moan.

A moment later they sprung apart like teenagers caught by a worried parent when a loud voice asked into the room. “Batman? Are you still there?”

Dick had had barely enough time to catch his breath, but answered immediately. “Oracle? Something up?”

“I thought you might want to know that Red Hood is no longer detained in Arkham.”

“That's certainly a mood killer,” Tim whispered, stepping away and trying to smooth down his hair with one hand.

“You mean he escaped?”

“It' seems that way. At least he is no longer in his cell and the guards were concerned enough that the authorities were informed three minutes ago.” Barbara sounded concerned enough herself.

“We'll look into it right away,” Dick confirmed.

“I'll send over what I have,” she announced and was gone again. 

Dick looked at Tim over his shoulder, who was watching him intently. “That talk has to wait.”

“Yeah, I figured. The _talk_ will have to wait.” He sighed. “I waited a long time, so I'm not going to have a problem with waiting a little longer.”

Dick gave him a lopsided grin. “Strange time for Jason to pull something like this. Think he is after a happy family reunion?”

Tim was already pulling on his mask again. “I'm sure family figures into his plans along the way somewhere.” He wasn't smiling anymore, but stepped toward the computer to look at the data Oracle had sent them. Dick smiled at the sight of him, sitting at the computer, always so very comfortable at working with data.

“Jason really has the worst timing ever,” Tim sighed.

Dick chuckled. “He's better at causing trouble than he knows himself.”

“I won't tell him. His ego doesn't need the boost.”

Oracle's avatar appeared on the monitor again. “One guard was found wounded outside the premises,” she announced.

“Heading out,” Dick confirmed and looked at Tim. “Sorry. My city now. Have to go.”

Tim grinned at him. “God, I just realized I kissed Batman. I should probably be traumatized.”

Dick was still laughing when he brought the Batmobile out onto the streets. 

Dick Grayson was feeling a little giddy and nervous when thinking of Tim. But now he wasn't Dick Grayson. He was _Batman_. And Batman had a job to do.

And a person to return to afterwards.


End file.
